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looking at the box.
. . .
Nngh. You intend to have me rot in a horror game?
[Gods. Still. This writer has granted his request to have somewhere he won't die of boredom. Instead, zombies! Maybe.]
...It is no matter. Do not think that this placement has any bearing upon anything, woman. If anything plans on coming for me, I intend to put it back in the ground. That, and all of it's friends.
Nngh. You intend to have me rot in a horror game?
[Gods. Still. This writer has granted his request to have somewhere he won't die of boredom. Instead, zombies! Maybe.]
...It is no matter. Do not think that this placement has any bearing upon anything, woman. If anything plans on coming for me, I intend to put it back in the ground. That, and all of it's friends.
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You must be a thrill to be around, if you're not positively buzzing at the idea of killing something as mindless as the undead. Either that, or...
[Never mind her, just casually admiring her gloves.] ...You're worrying about your own welfare in such a situation. Nothing says more about a man's performance than how he treats such opportunities. Are you worried that you can't handle your sword with competence?
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He's sweating. Suddenly. Profoundly. And the whites of his eyes can be seen, fleetingly. And he's stepping back! Back, back, back, back. Twenty paces exactly back. ]
.... I worry about nothing of the sort. Mind your own business and begone, wench.
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There's no way in hell that such an interesting, weird little man is escaping her now; each pace that Lon'qu's put between them, she happily covers.]
You seem a little nervous. Have I hit the mark about boys and their phallic substitutes? Or...
[And now Margaret's circling, each round moving a little closer.] You're threatened by a sweet, innocent girl like me. I don't blame you, you know. You should be scared.
I eat men like you for breakfast.
[Maggie, please; innocent girls don't usually go wearing cageskirts with nothing but knickers underneath. Even if you two have the same character artist, that doesn't mean that your brand of high fashion is appreciated.]
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Move back!
[....Yep. Trembling.]
I told you, stay away! Begone, out of my sight!
[He's not appreciating it at all. It's bad enough that she's a woman, but one dressed like that... Well, he's not even going to answer her insults. Nope. Too afraid. It hasn't even entered his mind.]
.... This is your last warning. Leave me in peace!
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...Still, she's stopped circling at least.] Move your hand before you embarrass yourself, boy.
You might be amusing to me, but I really don't feel like ruining another outfit because you happen to be, ah...Premature. Really, it's as if they give blades out to any ruffian who can hold one, not one who deserves it.
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...What it'd be to have control right now. Self-styled goddess of death or not, he'd do his utmost to shove the edge through her skull and ruin her outfit that way. His eyes darken considerably.]
And yet, here I am. With a blade, and clearly a ruffian. Have you any more insults? I have not the time nor the patience to endure you any longer.
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Defying all promises of civilised company, I might add. But if you're intent on waving that around and making a fool of yourself, then I suppose I have one thing left to say to you.
[Whoa hey using your boss fight asshole teleporting abilities to get right in Lon'qu's grill is cheating and also incredibly stupid, Maggie. It's almost as if she enjoys just being a total and utter bitch.] You're not the hero of your story. You're just more cannon fodder for someone much more important, and waving your sword around won't save you from mediocrity.
You don't get a respawn once your game's over, dear. Watch your mouth. [Oh my god she's just being ridiculous and meta and gross now. The Suda51 curse.]
w e h
...Only usually, someone's guts are on the floor.
He was slow. Too slow, actually, partially because she just disappeared and partially because his hands are still trembling on account of her gender. Because he's slow, the killing edge isn't in the position for her to reappear into it. Instead, it's grazing her neck. His words are glacial.
She's flicked a switch with her advance, her proximity. Her words of his death. It's easy to believe he's fighting for his life. And his fear; just like that, it's suppressed.
He's at his most dangerous, now. Moving close on a myrmidon... truly a foolish move.]
...You think I do not understand my role.
[He knows his lot in life. He's the property of the Khan. He may be on lease to the prince, yes. He might even be a permanent gift. All he knew was that he was Ferox's contribution to the war - and he wasn't intending to die. Cannon fodder or not.
The prince of Ylisse would not like this.
The Khan would cheer him on.
But what he should do is nothing. His eyes narrow, and it seems his hands aren't even moving. The edge is at her neck. Then, it is not. It's at his side, and it's stained. He raises a leg, and kicks the now-corpse squarely in the chest. It may fall back, with, or without head.]
... Presumptuous fool.
[That's one outfit ruined!
He steps over the body. He would normally use it to clean the blade, but a woman's corpse... No. He can't be around something like that.]
teeheehee 1/3
God, she loves fights. Money and glory, a reminder that her marksmanship is superior. For now though, taunting will do. That's her second most favourite thing in the world, and now that this snivelling excuse for a man has finally grown a spine, it's magnificent.]
Just a reminder, that's all--
aaaand 2/3
That's more like it.
[Alas, poor Margaret. We knew ye well. Just going to topple backwards now, head rolling neatly after Lon'qu almost as if to fuck with him even in death.
Given a few seconds though, the mess...Disappears completely.]
OK DONE phew
Okay, there we go. With a neat little 'pop', she's back in front of him; totally unintended for once, but how else can you fight a boss if they're not in front of you? The dress is still bloodied, as is her platinum hair, but she looks a little tired rather than smug like before.]
I do wish you wouldn't make a habit of that. I only have so many lives before we have to pop the disc out of the Wii and restart.
Plus it's a little vulgar.
\o/
Wait.
What.
WHAT.
Yes, gaping.]
...................................................
... How-
[Defensive stance!]
X-(!
[Better not fourth-wall this one too hard; there's no fun in breaking someone's brain so easily. Plus it's unseemly.] To put it simply, you're not someone who is meant to kill me. So I won't die. Call it what you will, but I assure you that if you try again, I'm afraid I'll have to fight back rather than laugh at your attempts to, ah...'Penetrate' me. I'm not afraid of death, but...Are you?
[Margaret heaves a sigh and flicks her wrist dismissively; boys are such silly creatures, far beyond her reckoning. Bless them.]
Since I'm feeling so nice, we'll call that one your one free murder and be done with it.
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[Cat.
But a woman.
But a cat.
But a woman.
ABORT ABORT ABORT DO NOT WANT NEVER WANT TWENTY PACES BACK TWENTY PACES BACK ABANDON SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIP
His voice is a low growl.]
Do not come any closer!
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[ FIFTEEN PACES FORWARDS. ]
Out with it now. Or does the cat have your tongue.
[ this is more fun than messing with Mir. B) ]
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[FIFTEEN PACES BACK. NO. TWENTY. The extra five are leeway.]
It is best you do not come any closer. I ask of you, whoever you are - do not.
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[ feigning innocence here. she knows FULLY well what is going on... and takes twenty five steps forward. GONNA BACK THE GUY INTO A WALL JUST YOU WAIT. ]
I'm certain that I have something that could cure what ails you, friend.
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But he's not going to strike her away. Even he hasn't got it in him to strike a woman. ...Unless she's trying to kill him, but she isn't.
So for now, he'll settle for swallowing, it coming out in a gulp.]
I am certain you cannot.
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Never say never, you know. You would not be the first I have witnessed that runs scared and almost crying at the sight of a female.
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[Yep, actually growling.
But...]
.... I do not even know who you are. What you are. Why would you offer to help me?
[Suspicion!]